Mind's Eye
by LovinJackson
Summary: BrotherhoodAU. Caleb and Dean find themselves in a deadly situation in which they only have each other to rely on. KazCon 2009 Authors Auction.
1. Chapter 1

**Mind's Eye!**

**Author: **Tara aka LovinJackson

**Summary: **_BrotherhoodAU_. Caleb and Dean find themselves in a deadly situation in which they only have each other to rely on. KazCon 2009 Authors Auction.

**Disclaimers:** I do not own Supernatural or the BrotherhoodAU. Just borrowing.

**A/N1** – Back in August 2009, I entered the Authors Auction at KazCon. My wonderful friend Nana56 bought me and requested this fic. It's almost been a year now and I am finally ready to start posting. Time between posting of chapters will be no longer than two weeks in between ;) Nana, I hope this is what you want and I am sorry for taking so long *hugs* Mistakes are all my own.

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**Chapter 1. Broken Arrow.**

"Keep going!"

The shout beside him was as desperate as the hand that suddenly connected with his shoulder, fisting in the fabric of his shirt to keep him upright and moving. They couldn't afford to slow down now because if they did they would end up like the forest ranger they had tried to protect. They would end up dead.

Dean knew that Caleb would never allow that to happen. Not if he could prevent it. The only problem was that Dean was starting to wonder if the psychic's sheer will and stubbornness would be enough to get them out of this mess.

The searing pain hit un-expectantly, causing him to cry out and sent him careening to the floor, his body jarring with the impact and taking his best friend down with him.

"Deuce!" Caleb's cry jarred him back into the real world and made the invading pain that much worse.

His hands moved towards the source of that pain - to the side of his lower back and which was now just as prominent from his stomach. He couldn't breathe; his hands were getting their first feeling of wetness as they found the source, the edge of something sharp protruding from his body.

"We have to keep moving!" Caleb growled as he lifted and pulled Dean's arm around his sturdy shoulders.

The world spun and Dean couldn't get his feet to cooperate. With every misplaced, stumbling step, Dean envisioned Mr. T punching him in the stomach, the pain of it reverberating all the way to his back and then all over his body.

Suddenly Caleb twisted, firing his .45 in rapid succession. It sounded far away and too loud all at the same time. He was gonna be sick. "Damn…" He tried to get his friend's attention but the words were lost on his lips as he gasped, almost folding in on himself.

"Shut up and keep moving, Deuce," Caleb ground out as he kept them both moving, keeping a distance between them and the danger.

Dean did as he was told, knowing that Caleb was serious, that his friend was worried, scared and he needed to help him. He could do this. He could. It was just a little bit further … wasn't it? In fact Dean had no idea where they were going or how long it would take to get there.

"Not much … further," Caleb panted, his voice broken with the effort of running and supporting the stumbling weight of Dean. It was like his friend had read his mind. The older boy was a psychic so anything was possible.

Whether he had or hadn't, Caleb hadn't been lying because suddenly pain exploded through him as he was unceremoniously dumped onto a hard rocky ground.

"Argghh!" He couldn't stop the ragged scream from escaping; but then suddenly Caleb was there again, pulling him up against his chest and covering his mouth with his hand.

"Whmm?" Dean struggled, his mind racing and not understanding the sudden restrain on his hurting body. His heart thudded in his chest, his lungs overtaxed with the mad dash they had made in retreat.

"Shhh … its okay, dude. Just keep quiet." Caleb whispered into his ear. The older man's breath brushed against his ear and face. Caleb's chest was rising and falling fast underneath him. "It's okay," Caleb reiterated after a moment.

Dean nodded and tried to control his own erratic breathing. He raised a heavy hand and placed it on Caleb's arm, giving it a quick squeeze to let him know that he had heard him and he had understood the need for stealth. He would be quiet.

Finally Caleb's hand fell away from his face and Dean sucked in a large breath. The air around them felt damp, like he could almost taste it around him. His face felt flushed. Was that sweat or the damp air leaving moisture on his skin?

Dean blinked, looking up, allowing his eyes to gaze around the dark and enclosed surroundings. Hadn't he just been in a forest? It looked like they were surrounded by rock … wet, smelly rock.

Rustling and voices directed his hazy attention to straight in front of them. Ten feet from where his boots lay was a covered opening. Vines and plant life hung over the edge of the rock, shielding some of the cave. How Damien had seen it or known to come in here, Dean didn't know.

He could hear talking … it was close and then there was movement behind their shield. Their attackers would find them. Dean's breathing picked up more speed the closer their enemy came, his chest rising and falling rapidly. The fire of his wound pounding to the speed of his fast heartbeat wasn't helping him.

"Shhh …" Caleb uttered again, placing his hand on Dean's chest.

Dean allowed his head to fall back onto Caleb's shoulder, casting his eyes back to the rocky ceiling above them and just concentrated on breathing, breathing and trying to ignore the stabbing punches in his stomach. He felt heavy, his nerves on edge, on icy fire.

He closed his eyes. He was tired. Maybe if he closed his eyes he would be able to calm himself. Voices could be heard outside of their small little cave, behind the foliage that was hiding them. Dean couldn't make out what they were saying but he didn't care. As long as they went away he didn't care.

"Deuce, you with me, buddy?"

"Hmm…" Caleb's voice wasn't by his ear anymore. In fact instead of the soft padding that had been Caleb's body, Dean could now feel hard, unforgiving ground. Had he zoned out that much?

"Dude, you're scaring the crap out of me."

A stinging slap to his cheek followed Caleb's insistent voice and Dean snapped his eyes open and jerked from his sprawled position on the ground. "Arghh! Fuck!" Dean cursed, his voice ragged as a knifing sensation ripped through his side.

"Whoa, hey, stay still," Caleb warned, placing his hands on Dean's shoulders, keeping him lying on his right side.

"What …"

"You passed out for a minute there, just take it easy, tough guy. We have a problem here."

"Really?" Dean grunted sarcastically when he managed to get some control back. He kind of figured they were in trouble when the first arrow had zipped past Caleb's head. They had been hunting a werewolf and as far as Dean remembered, werewolves didn't fire arrows at you.

Dean's gaze fell to where his hands were hovering. He couldn't press against the wound when there was a fucking arrow piercing through his back and out of his stomach. "Fuckin' hell …" Dean panted and then allowed his head to fall back against the ground.

"You'll be fine, dude," Caleb tried to assure him.

"Easy … for you to … s-say…" Dean rebutted, grinding his teeth together. He couldn't hold back the whine. It left his lips without his permission. "Get it … get it out."

"What?"

"The Arrow … get it out," Dean demanded. Every time he breathed it felt like the arrow was moving through his insides.

"I don't know whether we're supposed to."

Dean raised his head and glared at the older hunter. "Get. It. Out."

"I don't want you bleeding out, dickhead."

"Don't care … jus' do it … please …"

He closed his eyes and for a few long moments all Dean could hear was his own loud, fast breathing. He was almost about to check if Caleb was even still there when the sound of a zipper being roughly pulled open indicated the psychic moving about.

"Fucking stupid dicks with crossbows!" Caleb cursed, rustling through his bag. "Where the fuck did they even come from. I feel like we've fallen into a fucking western movie. They weren't supposed to be in these parts."

"D-Dunno…" Dean answered, trying to keep up with Caleb's ranting. The older man was still talking softly even if his voice held real anger and fear in it. But he was right. The small group of Historical re-enacters had been warned to stay out of the area because of the 'rabid dogs'. They obviously hadn't heeded the warning. But why shoot at them? "They … gone?"

"I think so but how about you let _me_ worry about them."

"Phone?" Dean stated tiredly, deciding one worded questions could do for now. Maybe they could call for back up. Dean opened his eyes again, blinking away moisture as he watched Caleb's movements. His own hands gripped the arrow, wanting to yank it out himself.

"I tried," Caleb sighed, dumping bandages from the first aid kit on top of the bag and then moved back a little, shrugging out of his jacket. "No reception in here. I haven't tried outside the cave yet because I don't want to give away our position."

"F-Feel them?" Dean asked, trying to stop his body from shivering. It hurt when he shivered but it also hurt to tense up while the arrow was still lodged in his body. He needed it out. The longer it was still imbedded the stronger the desire to rip it out was.

"The Indian wannabes?"

Dean nodded, the sweat on his forehead causing the dirt on the ground to stick to his head.

"No, I don't. But I didn't feel them when I could hear them outside the cave either."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean …" Calen huffed. "That I can't feel them or anything else. It's you and me in here and that's it." Caleb pointed to his head.

"You mean …"

Caleb sighed. "When I couldn't sense the arrow wielding lunatics out there I tried to reach out further and got nothing. It's like a big black fucking hole, Deuce."

Dean blinked at his friend. That couldn't be good. The underlying worry on the psychic's face mirrored his own thoughts. No matter where Caleb had gained his psychic abilities, no matter what demon they had been passed down by they were still something that they had all come to rely on … especially Caleb. The fact that they seemed offline outside of this cave didn't make sense. Dean couldn't remember a time when this had happened before.

"Check again," Dean ordered, biting down on his bottom lip as he shifted, irritating the thin wood speared through him.

Caleb glared at him and threw medical tape and gauze to the floor. "I told you I already fucking tried," the older hunter snapped.

"Check your … phone, I meant," Dean clarified, taking no offence to his friend's temper. He didn't have the energy and he knew how helpless Caleb felt when his powers were on the fritz. Caleb didn't do helpless very well.

"Oh …" Caleb's temper deflated fast leaving him looking weary in its wake. Caleb's arm came to rest on his shoulder. "You want me to fix you up or make phone calls, make up your mind, dude."

"What? You c-cant multi-task?" Dean joked, applying more pressure around the wound. It felt like it was burning every time he moved. "S-Some knight you'll be."

"Bite me, bitch. Besides, who died and made you boss? I'm the senior hunter, I make the decisions."

"_Senior_ alright."

"That hole in your side hasn't improved your sense of humour."

"Damien …" Dean pleaded. He didn't know what he was pleading for. They were stuck in an insane situation and he was feeling worse by the minute … he felt like shit.

"It's okay, dude. I'm gonna fix this," Caleb assured him.

For a few moments all was quiet in the cave which made Dean's own breathing sound louder in his ears. "Damien…"

Caleb shook out of his mental pause and moved closer to Dean. "I need you to roll over more," Caleb told him, the older boy's hands were already on him, helping him to move. "Easy … easy."

Easy was not a word that Dean would have ever associated with having an arrow sticking right through him. He didn't speak, he couldn't, not any more. It was taking all his concentration not to cry out at the pain of moving caused because he knew that if he did he would loose whatever breath he had left in his lungs.

Once he was fully on his side he could feel Caleb's hands pulling at his own that were still attempting to hold the wound. He hadn't even realised how hard he was pressing against the area, holding onto the arrow. Letting go, even though he knew Caleb was trying to help him went against his body's instinct.

"This is gonna hurt like a bitch. I'm going to have to break the end off before pulling it out."

"I … I don't care. Jus' do it." He'd done broken bones and gunshot wounds and all types of other injuries. He'd lost count over the years but he couldn't say he'd ever experienced being shot with an arrow. He didn't care how much it hurt or what Caleb had to do. He just wanted the damn thing out.

Caleb sat there for a moment, looking down at him before Dean noticed a resolve setting behind his friend's amber eyes. "Okay, hold still," Caleb told him as he climbed over Dean's body so that he was behind him.

Dean closed his eyes, a frown creasing his sweaty forehead. His hands hovered back down to where the arrow was sticking through his skin. He felt Caleb's hands on his back and tensed for what was to come. Then Caleb's hands were gone seconds before pressure was put on the arrow. The action only took a second; the sound of the wood snapping was followed by his short throaty shout.

The breath had been sucked from him entirely now. It felt like Caleb stabbed him, pushed the arrow further through his side. Before he could register anything else but the pain engulfing him, Caleb was in front of him again, hand gripping his chin.

"Hey! Stay with it," he ordered and Dean's eyes snapped up to meet his friend's.

"That's better. You wanted it out, remember?" Caleb reminded him, cocking an eyebrow daring Dean to challenge him.

"F..uck you," Dean responded through clenched teeth.

Caleb lifted a shoulder, making a face of disgust. "Nah, I think I'll pass."

Dean rolled his eyes and then his head to the ground, allowing the dirt and rock to cool his forehead. He knew what Caleb was doing and it was working.

His hands were pulled away from the front of the wound once more. He was still slightly on his side and curled inward. As much as he wanted that arrow out, his body instinctively tried to protect itself from the pain that it knew would be returning.

We're almost done, dude," Caleb told him, holding his wrist. "You ready?"

Dean nodded, pulling his wrist out of Caleb's grasp. He pressed his hand against the rock underneath him, trying to subconsciously find purchase.

"I'm gonna count to three, okay?"

"Wait," Dean demanded, breathlessly. "On three … or one, two, three and then go?"

Caleb cocked his head to the side, his hands in place, ready. "On three."

"Okay." Dean nodded. One three. He was ready … he thought.

Caleb squeezed his shoulder. "Ready?" he asked again.

"Yeah."

Hands back in position, Caleb held his gaze as he began to count. "One … two…"

TBC …

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**A/N2 -** Well there it is folks. I didnt want to wait any longer. I know it's been a long time since I posted anything Supernatural, or Brotherhood. Nana, this is for you, I hope it doesnt suck.

Feel free to let me know what you think, guys :)

Hope you're all well :) see you soon :)

**Tara x0x**


	2. Keep Away From The Lights

**A/N 1 – **Hey guys :) Thanks for all the kind words about the 1st chapter. I really appreciate your feedback more than you know ;) I wont keep you by my rambling like I normally do. Thanks to **angelustatt** and **mum** for their help in the finished product. Now you may read :)

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**Chapter 2. Keep Away From The Lights**

Caleb snapped his eyes open in frustration. Another attempt at reaching anyone failed. He was off-line. Dean was the only person he could reach and that right now was pretty useless. Dean wasn't in much of a condition to help anyone.

They would just have to get out of this one on their own. They were adults. They didn't need to go running to the older hunters every time a hunt went wrong.

But then this wasn't just some small fuck up. Dean was injured and needed more help than Caleb could give him. He needed a doctor. Caleb was almost positive that nothing vital had been hit by the offending arrow but the kid had lost more blood than Caleb was happy with and he was still unconscious, having past out when Caleb pulled the arrow all the way out.

Growling under his breath, Caleb pulled his cell phone out of his pocket again and tried futilely to get a signal. He knew he wouldn't get one. His phone was even more useless than he was. At least he still had a connection to Dean. His phone was now just a paperweight in the cave, the rock covering them preventing any signal.

"Great," he grumbled, climbing to his feet. "Just fucking great."

Sticking the phone back in his pocket instead of hurling it across the cave in frustration, Caleb then bent down to retrieve his gun that he had left on the floor while tending to his friend.

He slipped the clip out and gave it a once over before sliding it back up into place. He was going to have to venture outside. Dean had dropped a bag when he had been hit. There were supplies in there that could come in useful, not to mention maybe if he got out from underneath all this rock his phone might become useful again.

Looking down at Dean, Caleb felt concern flutter through him. Leaving Dean alone in the cave even for a couple of minutes didn't sit right with him. If someone or something wanted to come in here when he was gone Dean would be unprotected.

He crouched down beside his best friend and put a hand on his shoulder and shook it slightly, hoping it would be enough to wake him. Dean didn't budge.

Caleb moved his hand up to Dean's cheek, giving it a light slap. "Deuce, wake up, buddy."

This time Dean's face crinkled into a frown. It spurred Caleb on. "Deuce! Hey! Dean, you gotta wake up for a minute, man."

He went back to Dean's shoulder, squeezing it. Dean groaned and lifted a hand, almost catching Caleb in the eye. "Watch it. Come on, wake up!"

"Wha…?" Dean grouched, eyes blinking open and shut a few times before they finally stayed open, gaze locked on Caleb's.

"You with me, dude?"

Dean's eyes darted from Caleb then to the surrounding closed in area. Confusion was obvious as was the pain in the wince that shortly followed. "I …" Dean started and then stopped again, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "What happened?"

Caleb put the gun back down on the ground and placed his now free hand on Dean's other shoulder. "Werewolf hunt turned sour, remember?"

Dean's eyes clouded further with confusion for a second and then the fog seemed to lift and he went to sit up only to be stopped by Caleb. The resulting gasp ended with a wince as the kid's eyes wound up back locked onto his. "Fucking arrow – you got it out?"

Caleb rolled his eyes. "No, I left you lying here like a stuck pig. What do you think?"

"Dick."

"Now, now, don't abuse the people you need … How're you feeling?"

Dean frowned, licked his lips again. "I'm fine."

"Sure you are," Caleb replied dryly. "Now how are you really feeling?"

Dean's body relaxed back onto the rocky surface beneath him with a pained sigh. "Like I was shot with an arrow."

"You always did want to play a cowboy," Caleb teased, lifting up his jacket that he had laid over Dean and checked the wound. The red soaked through the bandages were not promising.

His father would have probably kicked his ass for removing the arrow from the wound but then Mac wasn't here and Dean had practically begged him. Caleb had made a judgement call and deemed it okay to remove the arrow. He hoped he hadn't made a mistake. It made him all the more determined to get help.

"How long was I out?" Dean asked, ignoring the teasing.

"About fifteen minutes, not enough to catch up on your beauty sleep which lord knows you need heaps of."

Dean's eyes narrowed, not taking the bait. "What's going on?"

Caleb sighed; the smile he had been forcing vanished. "I have to go outside. I need to get that bag you dropped, see if cell reception is any better out there."

"What if the _Indians_ are still out there?"

"Well it's either that or stay in here for the rest of our lives. I know I sure have bigger plans for my life than living with you in a cave."

"You … you make it sound like that's a bad thing," Dean countered.

"Here," Caleb said, grabbing Dean's hand and wrapping the kid's fingers around his gun. He wasn't happy about leaving Dean, even for a few minutes, but if he did have to leave him then he wasn't leaving his friend totally defenceless. "Anyone comes in here and I want you to shoot first and ask questions later."

"And if I shoot you?"

"Don't."

"I think …wait," Dean spoke, his face holding more and more concern in it. It was a tough mixture of concern and pain. It strengthened Caleb's resolve. "…you remember I'm not psychic, right?"

"I didn't think I had to put in writing that you had to shoot anyone BUT me, Genius." Caleb slapped Dean's denim clad leg lightly. "You gonna be okay?"

Dean nodded. Of course Dean would be okay. Dean would be okay if he had half his leg hanging off.

"Right …"

"Be careful."

"You know I always am," Caleb assured him with a wink and then stood, gripping his own gun tightly in his hand.

"That's what worries me."

"I'll be back." Caleb turned and started towards the entrance to the cave, smirking as he heard Dean saying something about Arnold _Schwarzenegger._

Caleb took a calming breath and then used the tip of his .45 to move the foliage aside. He scanned the area. Everything was quiet, peaceful even. It was unnerving. Realising that he couldn't just stand there forever, Caleb carefully eased himself out of the safety of the cave and darted for the cover of the closest tree to his position.

The sun was out, birds were chirping, mocking him. It was like he hadn't just made a mad dash for cover with his seriously injured best friend. Caleb carefully glanced around the trunk of the tree. There was nothing out of the ordinary, or even remotely dangerous looking.

Taking the chance, Caleb fished his phone out of his pocket and decided to try calling for help again. Even if they could get out of this themselves, Dean needed medical attention. Caleb hit the speed dial for John's number.

Calling the Knight was not high on his list of things he wanted to do considering he'd just allowed the man's son to be skewered by an arrow but Caleb was brave like that. He could put aside John's anger towards him for Dean's sake.

Placing the phone to his ear, Caleb nearly cried out in relief as he heard it ringing. Maybe they weren't as screwed as what he had first thought. The moment that the connection was made, Caleb realised they were going to have problems.

_"__Win... ester."_

The familiar voice on the other end of the phone was quiet and broken and for the first time since making the call, Caleb realised how staticky it was.

"John, it's Caleb, we need..."

_"__Caleb?" _John called back, his tone indicating that he couldn't hear properly.

Caleb looked around the tree again and decided he needed to move and talk at the same time. He wanted to limit the time away from his injured friend. "John, you need to listen to me. Dean's been injured. I need ..." Caleb started to tell his mentor as he darted out from behind the tree.

_"__Wh...'s been I...jured? Ca...leb?"_

"Dean's injured and we're in trouble. We need help!" Caleb tried to stress without literally shouting and drawing attention from whoever or whatever had attacked them. He was already making himself more of a target being out in the open, let alone making so much noise."I left co-ordinates with Jim."

_"__Yo... brea...ing up ..."_

Caleb went to respond but the line cut out. He pulled the device away from his ear in frustration. "Great!" He hissed, shoving it back in his pocket. Naturally they had to have bad cell reception. They couldn't have had at least that bit of luck on their side. That would have been too fucking easy.

Caleb picked up the pace. The faster he got to that backpack the faster he could get back to Dean and work out how he was going to get the kid out of there with or without outside help.

Flexing his fingers around his gun, Caleb was feeling more and more confident the longer he was out in the open with no threat of attack. It made him feel anxious to get back to Dean. Like this was what their attackers had been waiting for, like they had been waiting for him to leave so they could get Dean when he was off his game.

After three minutes of walking, Caleb finally spotted the first sign that not all was peaceful and good around them. He stopped walking at the sight of the first body, raising his gun a little, gazing around him through the trees and plant life.

Looking back at the body in front of him on the track, Caleb could see it was one of the men that had been chasing them. The Indian costume made that quite obvious.

Caleb cautiously made his way over to the man and knelt down beside the unmoving body. Holding his gun in one hand and keeping his eyes on his surroundings, Caleb pressed the fingers of his free hand against the man's throat. Nothing … not even a teasing pulse. There was no life in the body before him.

Looking up Caleb noticed there was more. Not far off there was another body dressed in an Indian costume slumped against the base of a tree. Caleb moved quicker this time, pushing himself to his feet and walking over to the most likely dead man. A quick check for life proved there was none. No sign of obvious wounds other than the bloody nose.

"What the hell?" Caleb asked himself quietly, resting his gaze on the dead body by the tree. He had died with bow still in his hand. Caleb picked it up, silently wondering if it had been this guy that shot his friend.

This didn't make any sense. They had come out after catching wind of a possible werewolf hunt and ended up getting shot by Indians who seemed to just keel over and die. Caleb dropped the bow in frustration. They weren't looking at werewolves here. They were looking at something that Caleb had no idea about.

He needed to find that bag and get back to Dean. He walked on a bit further, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he came across another two more bodies not unlike the last couple. He checked both of them out just to be sure and then spotted Dean's backpack. Relief washed through him.

He rushed over to the bag and picked it up, unzipping it to have a quick look inside. Everything was still in there. Great! Now he needed to get back to Dean.

Caleb turned and gasped, almost falling backwards as a dozen or so glowing little lights danced right in front of his eyes. They darted closer to him and Caleb backed up further until his back was pressed against the tree.

Bringing his gun up, Caleb pointed it at the mass of glowing lights. He wasn't sure whether his gun would even have an effect, he wasn't even sure if they were a threat. He felt like he was pointing his gun at a bunch of harmless fireflies. Only he got the feeling that these things were anything but harmless.

Caleb felt trapped, frozen, holding his gun in front of him ready to shoot the tiny creatures if they made a move. And move they did. Suddenly as if having conferred with each other, the glowing specks moved forward and scattered to the side when Caleb shot off one round, the bullet finding a new home in a nearby tree.

The glowing creatures converged onto Caleb's gun, the weapon suddenly becoming super hot to touch. Caleb yelped in pain and dropped the gun to the dirt track. His hand was tingling in the aftermath and Caleb pulled it to his chest and held his other hand out in front of him like he could somehow create an invisible barrier between him and the creatures as they came flying at him.

Caleb covered his head with one arm and waved the other hand around to try and stop the creatures from getting too close. He felt tingling all over his body. It was like tiny little pin pricks. He swiped his hand around him, gasping as the tiny little pin pricks started getting more painful. Soon they were like little hot pokers trying to gain entry to his body through his skin.

Caleb cried out and attempted to push himself to his feet. He stumbled backwards as soon as he gained some height, doubling over as the attack on his body intensified. With a quick glance from under the arm trying to protect his face, all Caleb could see was what seemed like hundreds of little lights buzzing around him erratically charging him.

The attack was relentless and it didn't matter how Caleb moved or tried to get away they kept coming. He dropped to the floor and did the only thing he could do. Caleb crawled up into a ball, one arm covering his face the other attempting to protect his stomach.

_"Help!"_

TBC ...

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**A/N 2 – **I hope that was okay, guys. I promise more explanation is coming about what these things are and how they tie into the story … but where would the fun be if I didn't provide some suspense? Hehehe. Hope you'll enjoyed. I would love to hear your thoughts and I hope you're all having a fantastic week :)

**Tara x0x**


	3. Call For Help

**A/N1: **Hey Guys! I'm sure this is a little later than I promised. Real Life once again reared it's ugly head and I have had too much to do and not enough time to do it. As it is I proofed this chapter by myself and I am terrified it's going to be riddled with mistakes ... but I just really wanted to get it out there for you. I hope it's not too bad :) Thanks to **Angelustatt** for her read through.

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Chapter 3. Call For Help.

_Help!_

Sam Winchester nearly jumped out of skin as the loud voice reverberated through his head. The day had been quiet. Dean and Caleb were off on a hunt, Jim was in town at the church and his Dad had been making himself busy with research for another hunt, leaving the sixteen year old some peace and quiet. Sam knew it would never last long and so he was making sure to enjoy this quiet down time.

That had been until he had felt like an anvil had dropped on his head. Sam gasped, his head in his hands as he leant his elbows on the desk in front of him. His homework was all but forgotten as stars danced in front of his closed eyes and nausea hit his stomach like a sledge hammer to the gut.

"Sammy!"

Sam jolted again, wincing. His father's voice added to the thumping in his head. God, of all times for the man to call him. He was convinced his father had the worst timing of anyone he had ever known.

Sam sucked in a breath and squeezed his eyes tight before sliding the chair back, one hand to his forehead. He could hear loud footsteps charging up the steps and Sam knew that it wouldn't be long until his father slammed into the room in true John Winchester fashion.

"Sammy! Pack your gear," John ordered as he walked into the room, his thoughts obviously moving a hundred miles faster than what was physically possible.

"Wait!" Sam managed to gasp out, blinking a few times to clear his vision. He looked tentatively up at his father, his hand hovering by his forehead.

"What do you mean wait?" John asked and then stepped forward, looking at Sam more closely. "What's wrong?"

"I just got this sharp pain in my head and I could have sworn ..." Sam trailed off, not sure how his father would take the rest of what he had to say.

"You could have sworn what, Sammy?" John asked, reaching out and grabbing hold of Sam's head, checking or any obvious sign of injury, checking his pupils. When he couldn't find anything out of the ordinary, Sam was released.

Sam pulled back a little and stood, standing away from his father's close proximity. As soon as he was on his feet Sam could feel himself waver and felt his father latch onto his arm giving him enough support so he didn't end up face first on the hard wood floor of his bedroom.

"Sammy?" John asked again, an urgency to his voice that told Sam his mind was half on what was in front of him and half on whatever it was that had brought him up to Sam's room in the first place.

Sam tried to shake himself, without losing his late lunch in the process. "I thought I heard a call for help."

John looked around him and then looked back at Sam. "There's no-one home but you and me, Kid."

"I know," Sam admitted cautiously. "I heard it in my head. Dad, it sounded like Caleb."

Something in his father's eyes changed. He gave Sam's arm a small squeeze and then patted him on the shoulder. "We need to get a move on then."

Sam frowned and followed his father as he walked across the room. "Just like that?" Sam asked. He was confused. "Where are we supposed to be going?"

"I got a call from Caleb. Reception was too bad to make anything out but I got the gist. Get your shit together and be ready in five." John ordered again, already making his way down the hall.

Sam stopped, resting both hands against the doorway. "What's going on?" Sam called out, although deep in his still churning gut, Sam knew he didn't need an answer.

John stopped and turned around, holding his hands to the side and shrugging. "I don't know but something is wrong and we need to move. So less questions, more moving. Go Sam, now!"

Sam nodded. "Yes Sir," he answered, watching his father turn back around and make a quick stop in his own room. Sam turned back to his room.

Something was wrong. It couldn't be a coincidence. He had heard Caleb in his head, screaming for help. He would know that voice anywhere but more than that he would know that link anywhere. Caleb's essence was familiar. If Caleb was in trouble where the hell was Dean?

Sam yanked his backpack off the back of the door and tossed a couple of things in it before zipping it up. Everything else he would need would be in the car. One final look around the room, Sam caught sight of Caleb's copy of 'The Three Musketeers' laying on its side on the shelf in their room.

He didn't know what came over him but he closed the space between him and the book and picked it up. It was well loved and for some reason Sam was drawn to it. Not knowing what was happening to Dean and Caleb made him feel just that little bit terrified.

"Sam!"

Sam jumped at his father's shout. It did the trick, waking him from his lapse in movement. He quickly unzipped the backpack and shoved the book into it before turning and racing out of the room. He took the stairs two at a time, not wanting his Dad to decide he needed to come up and get him because that would never end well.

John was waiting by the open door with an expectant look on his face. Sam nodded to the man as he past. He could hear John shooing the dogs back inside the house before the sound of the door clicking shut registered in his ears.

"What did Caleb say?" Sam asked once he was seated and his Dad was gunning the Truck's engine.

John shook his head, almost growling. "I don't know. His reception was pretty much non-fucking-existent but I'm sure I caught the word 'injured'."

"You think it's Dean?" Sam asked, feeling like he was all of nine years old again and needing his father to tell him that everything was okay … that the monster in the cupboard wasn't real.

John waited a beat and then nodded, taking them off the farm road and onto the main road. "Yeah, I do."

And just like when he was nine years old, his father had never sugar-coated anything. "Do you know where they are?"

John reached into the inside pocket of his jacket with one hand while he kept the other on the steering wheel. He past a small piece of paper to Sam. "They left co-ordinates and details before they left as per procedure. It's only a couple of hours away."

Sam looked down at the paper in his hand. His Dad obviously knew where he was headed or had looked up a map while Sam had been still up in his room. Either way John Winchester was nothing if not prepared. Sam looked up at his father. "Dean seemed to think it was a pretty straight forward werewolf hunt. What the hell went wrong?"

John shrugged, his face in what would be a permanent concerned frown until they knew Caleb and Dean were okay.

"They've handled more than their fare share of hunts like this with no problem," Sam continued, thinking out loud.

John sighed, running a hand down his face, over his stubbled chin before placing his hand back on the wheel. "And they also know how to attract trouble."

Sam raised an eyebrow. "You almost sound like they do it on purpose."

John glanced at Sam and then back at the road. "No I'm sure they don't. But getting too complacent can get you killed."

Sam frowned. Dad was blaming them? "I don't think this has anything to do with complacency," Sam countered.

"Oh, is that so?" John asked.

Sam nodded, slowly. "We've been trained by some of the best and if there is one thing I have learnt growing up in our family? It's that sometimes not everything is always as it seems and can still catch even the best Hunters off guard."

John was silent again for a few moments and then he glanced at Sam. "So you do listen to me."

Sam grinned and looked down at the co-ordinates in his lap. "On occasion," he joked, his stomach doing nervous flip-flops at the thought of his brother out there somewhere injured.

"Good to know," John replied. "Now lets hope I misinterpreted Caleb's call."

Sam snorted. If that were the case then why would Caleb have called out like he had. It was one of those psychic punches that had been full of fear and panic. Sam couldn't ignore that … and it made him feel sick to his stomach.

" I hope so," Sam agreed, deciding against voicing his doom and gloom. Sam closed his eyes and concentrated …. _We're coming, Caleb!_

**xXx**

Dean opened his eyes, blinking the blurriness away, or attempting to at least. His whole body was aching and cold. The hard surface under him was hard and damp. Not much had changed from the last time he had been awake.

"Damien … ahh..." Dean gasped as he tried to move. His fingers clenched around something hard and familiar. His gun. Dean looked down at his and then squinted in the dim light of the cave.

How long had he been asleep? Caleb was nowhere to be seen or heard and suddenly Dean felt very alone and very worried. He brought up his left wrist and squinted at the hands on his watch. It was hard to make out with limited lighting and it didn't matter anyway because it wouldn't tell him anything. He didn't know what time it had been when he'd last seen Caleb. It could have been five minutes or five hours for as far as Dean knew.

Dean shivered, wiping his hand down his face. He skin was hot despite the coldness inside their hideout. "Great," he sighed. He needed to get up. To find out what was going on. There was every chance that his best friend was in trouble and here he was lying on his back like a weakling.

Besides, Caleb wasn't around to tell him no. Dean released his death-grip on his gun, leaving it on the cave floor next to him and then tried to relax his body for a few seconds. He took in some large, breaths, feeling the strain the exaggerated inhale and exhale put on his injured side.

Knowing it wasn't going to be pleasant, Dean steeled himself for what was to come and then pulled himself up into a sitting position. He groaned loudly through clenched teeth and his eyes remained tightly shut. He sat there still for a moment, debating whether Caleb was right to tell him to stay still or not.

With one hand pressed firmly to his injured stomach, Dean collected himself, opening his eyes once again. He considered how he was going to attempt his next move. He needed to get to his knees.

Bracing himself against the sensation that he knew would rip through him. Dean placed one hand on the ground beside him and then rolled, keeping his other hand pressing against the wound like he was trying to keep his insides from falling out.

It felt like liquid fire racing from the wound, sucking away his ability to breathe properly. Dean stayed like that on his hands and knees in the dank cave for another few precious seconds. Without opening his eyes, Dean released his wound in order to take hold of his gun again. His hands were sticky with blood as he adjusted his grip and then pressed his hand and gun against the floor.

"Okay … okay ..." he panted. He wasn't actually sure he could get into a standing position but Dean was stubborn. It was a Winchester trait. He could do this … until he knew Caleb was okay, anyway.

Twisting and using the cave wall for support, Dean growled as he pulled himself up. Dean wavered dangerously, most of his weight being held up by the wall. Dean remained slightly hunched over, small gasps escaping as he tried to straighten up.

Letting go of the wall with his left hand, Dean let his body drop against the wall, his shoulder taking the brunt of the impact. He wrapped his left arm around his body, using his hand to pressed against the wound once more. He could feel wetness there again.

Dean looked down dazedly, pulling his hand away. It was marked with red. He was still bleeding. Caleb was going to be happy about that, he thought dryly.

The thought of the psychic spurred Dean on. Once he thought he had some sort of equilibrium Dean launched himself off the wall, his legs proving wobblier than he thought. He staggered, crashing into the entrance of the cave with a throaty shout. "Fuck!"

The world was spinning around him. This was a bad idea, a very bad idea but what else could he do. Was he supposed to sit in the cave and hope that Caleb made it back safe? The thought that maybe he was already too late and Caleb was hurt or dead crossed his mind and it surged him on.

Wiping his gun arm across his forehead, Dean then used the gun to move the cover of the plants aside and looked out. Nothing was out there. It was quiet and peaceful. Dean knew not to trust the tranquillity though.

He pushed forward, hunched over slightly in a useless effort to keep his side from hurting. It didn't help all that much but at least he was on his feet and he was walking … or staggering, depending on a person's point of view. Since no-one else was there to judge, Dean decided to take the former.

Now was time to find his friend and get the fuck out of there.

The further Dean walked the more Dean realised that his plan had a few flaws. Struggling to draw a proper breath, Dean settled for small panted breaths as he stumbled over a root that was sticking out from the base of a tree. He went down and went down hard. Crying out at the sudden impact, Dean's body curled in on itself. His head was thumping to the beat of his heart. It was disorientating.

With his hand still clutching tightly at his gun, Dean looked up ahead of him. He had no idea which way Caleb had gone, only that he was pretty sure that this was the way they had come.

Dean cringed and let his head drop to hang between his shoulders as he fought off the waves of pain and dizziness. This plan was more than flawed. He wasn't going to be any help if Caleb actually even needed his help. But what else could he do? If Caleb was in trouble then doing nothing would certainly … amount to nothing.

And now his thoughts were getting as disorientating as the rest of him was.

With a growl of protest, Dean pushed himself up onto shaky legs. He felt what little colour he had flee and he stumbled again, his left hand leaving his injured side and gripping at the bark of the tree next to him.

"Come on … you pussy. Man t-the fuck up," he ordered himself.

Once he was sure he wasn't going to take one step and topple over, Dean made a move again. He concentrated on putting one step in front of the other.

The first sign of a body lying in the middle of the path, Dean nearly tripped over it. For a second his racing heart stopped altogether and he dropped to the ground. He dropped his gun and pulled the body onto it's back, his hands leaving red marks on the tan tunic … tan tunic. Caleb wasn't wearing an Indian costume. This guy was part of the group that had shot at them,_ had_ shot him.

Dean blinked a few times as a single drop of sweat ran from his hairline and down the side of his face. He shivered but almost laughed in relief. This wasn't Caleb.

There was a commotion up ahead and around the bend. Dean had almost missed it. His head whipped up and his eyes scanned the area.

"Arrghh!"

Dean gasped as his body moved on instinct. He'd know that scream anywhere. His body felt heavy, it felt like razors were ripping through his side as his scrambled over the dead body of the Indian impersonator, remembering at the last minute to pick up his gun.

As he rounded the corner Dean stumbled to a halt, swaying dangerously on two feet. He reached out with one hand and felt himself teeter towards a tree. That didn't stop him from aiming his gun in front of him.

Holding himself up against the tree Dean squinted as sweat ran into his eyes. Over a dozen lights flew around his friend's curled up body and for a moment Dean thought that just maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him.

He flexed his grip around his gun. There was nothing for him to shoot at that wouldn't put Caleb in the line of fire. It was like trying to shoot a whole bunch of tinkerbells.

"Damien!" Dean roared as he pushed himself away from the tree. One foot in front of the other and Dean could feel his legs getting weaker and weaker. By the time he reached the older hunter, Dean almost fell on top of the psychic and his new bright, erratic friends.

Caleb shouted, it almost sounded like he had been going to say something but the killer fireflies were relentless and all the older boy ended up doing was shouting abuse, whipping one arm out to try and fend them off.

Dean waved his arms around Caleb's body. "Leave him alone!" Dean ordered! He knew it must have sounded lame but he was at a loss as of what to do.

Dean fired off a shot into the air in an insane attempt to distract the creatures. He didn't even know if they could hear and he wasn't surprised when it didn't work. Dean dropped his gun and reached for Caleb with both his hands, smearing Caleb's shirt with his blood and started to pull him towards him.

Suddenly it was like a light-switch had been flipped on, a screeching sound split through the air and through Dean's skull and he ducked, dropping his grip on Caleb and covered his ears in a useless attempt to stop his ear drums from bursting.

The angry fireflies darted away from his writhing friend and hovered around them. If they hadn't been just little spots of light dancing around them, Dean would have sworn they almost looked confused … if fireflies could look like any kind of emotion.

"Caleb!" Dean broke out loudly, pain lacing his words. His side was hot, like someone was stabbing him over and over again.

It took a few seconds for Caleb to uncurl himself and look around, guarded. Dean sighed in relief when his eyes found Caleb's amber ones and held his gaze. "What are you doing out here?"

Dean laughed at the absurdity of that question, the sound coming out more like a rough cough. "Saving your ass, what does it look like?" He managed to stay upright on his knees and pressed his now free hand back against his wound.

Caleb scooted up, sitting on his butt and looked around them, eyeing the fireflies warily. "What stopped them?"

"I …" Dean panted. "I don't know but we need … we need to get out of here, dude." He closed his eyes for a moment to ward off the dizziness.

"Deuce? Whoa … dude, you're bleeding again." Caleb's hands were on his shoulders.

"I … don't feel so good," Dean admitted, opening his eyes to look at Caleb. Caleb looked scared.

Dean tried to push himself up but couldn't find the strength in his limbs to do so. Before he realised what was happening the world tilted and Dean was looking at the tree tops.

"Deuce, hey, hey, not now … stay with me..."

Caleb's frantic expression hovered over him, blocking the view of the trees before Dean felt his body slump and he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

**TBC ...**

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**A/N2:** So there it is folks. I'll try to get the next one to you within my usual two week deadline ;) Hope you are all doing well :)


	4. Teamwork

**A/N-1:** Hi everyone (or anyone here still willing to read) I am terribly sorry for how long it has taken. I seem to take longer and longer these days to update. It's something I am trying to improve on because I had leaving my loyal amazing readers in limbo. I really feel terrible about that and most of all, I feel terrible for leaving **Nana56** in limbo so long as this story was a request for her.**Nana**, you know I love you * hugs *

If people are still reading then I thank you immensely for not rightfully ditching my slow arse. I want to thank **Angelustatt** for reading part of this and my **Mum **for helping me proof this (It's like listening to Gareth David-Lloyd read the Torchwood novels, complete with sound effects only without those gorgeous Welsh vowels) And thank each one of you for sticking with me.

Now I'll shut up and let you all read :)

* * *

**Chapter 4. Teamwork**

Climbing out of the car, Sam pulled out his cell phone again, like he had the last hundred times since he'd heard Caleb scream back at the farm. His own signal was getting worse and considering Caleb and Dean were both out there in this damn forest somewhere he doubted their cell reception was any better. But that didn't mean that it wasn't second nature for him to keep trying.

"Sam, put your damn phone away. It's not going to work any better now than it did before," John snapped as he rounded the vehicle, tossing Sam his bag.

Sam caught the bag and then reluctantly slipped the phone into the pocket of his jeans. His Dad was right. It was useless to try and use their phones. It was why he had been attempting to use his connection to Caleb as well. But for most of the drive it was like his connection with the psychic had never existed. There was just a void there, like a massive big wall was preventing him from seeing anything. It was frustrating as hell and scared the crap out of him because what did that mean? Sam didn't really want to imagine what that might mean.

"Move it, Sam!"

Sam jumped at his father's bark and set off behind the man, slinging the bag he'd packed over his shoulder.

"Have you ... you know ... felt anything?" John asked and Sam would have almost laughed at his awkwardness in relation to any powers his youngest son apparently had, if the situation hadn't been so dire.

"No," Sam admitted begrudgingly. "Not for lack of trying."

"Only your brother and Caleb could get in trouble on a simple werewolf hunt. It's like they attract it," John grumbled.

"Maybe their intel wasn't good. Maybe it wasn't a werewolf," Sam suggested.

"Maybe they weren't paying attention, having too much fun fucking around," John suggested without turning to look at Sam as he spoke, or even slow down. They were fast approaching the rangers station.

Sam felt anger rise up in him and he quickened his pace, his long legs easily catching up with his Dad's. "You know that's bullshit! They're dickheads but they aren't stupid. They're good hunters. You made sure of that." His brother and Caleb could be morons when they got together and had caused many an eye roll from him but they didn't botch hunts because they were fucking about.

His Dad stopped for all of a second when Sam reached out and grabbed his arm, forcing the man to listen to him. "I know," John admitted and Sam could see his father's mind working in overtime trying to work out how this had fucked up, how something as simple as a werewolf, something he knew Caleb at least had taken down enough times to be able to handle had turned into a mess. John straightened and shrugged out of Sam's grip. "Let's stop guessing and find out what happened shall we?"

"Sounds like a plan, Dad." Sam walked side by side with his father and then followed the man into the rangers station.

Inside it was a little dusty, a couple of windows were still open and things seemed to be just left there. A full mug of coffee and a half eaten sandwich sat on the main desk but the person who had been consuming the food was nowhere to be seen.

Sam glanced at his father and saw the man's mirrored expression of confusion and anxiety. This wasn't a simple werewolf hunt. Werewolves, at least to Sam's knowledge left places a lot messier. This was like the occupants of the station had just got up and left. Where they had gone? That was the mystery.

John went behind the desk, rifled through some papers, but Sam knew that his father knew he wasn't going to find the answers there. He was just being thorough.

"What are you thinking?" Sam finally asked, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention.

John remained silent for a whole minute, Sam could see his mind trying to come up with an answer that would satisfy them both. The frustrated scowl on the older man's face told Sam all he needed to know. John Winchester had no clue what they were dealing with and that was something that had the ability to scare Sam most of all.

"Come on, let's get a move on," John said, moving back from around the desk.

Sam watched as John headed out the door. He didn't like this. He didn't like this one bit. If his Dad was in the dark then they really were at a disadvantage.

Exiting the rangers station, Sam scanned their surroundings with a keen eye, trying to get a sense of where his brother and Caleb would have gone.

"What do we know about the case they were on?" Sam asked, looking across at his father who was already starting to make his way down the dirt path.

"Not all that much. It isn't unusual for there to be wolf sightings in these areas."

"So what made Caleb think he was dealing with a werewolf?"

"Wolves might be common in the area but this park is fenced off to keep tourists and nature lovers safe."

"How are they getting in?"

"The normal everyday wolf wouldn't go out of its way to get past the fences and they don't generally steal victims hearts. Wolves kill out of defence and to eat … werewolves on the other hand..."

"So it was most likely someone who came to the park a lot? Maybe one of the park rangers?"

"That was Caleb's suspicion."

"And now the rangers are missing."

"And so are your brother and Caleb."

"Maybe the Werewolf knew he was a werewolf and caught onto Dean and Caleb before they caught onto him." Sam shook his head as he realised how confusing that sentence was even to his own ears.

"Maybe ..." John stopped suddenly, frowned and then veered off to his right. John stepped off the path and into the nest of bushes and trees. He moved some branches aside and then cupped his hand over his mouth for a second before he let it drop to his side.

John looked over at Sam. "But that wouldn't explain this."

Sam jogged over to his father and peaked around the tree as John moved aside to make room for him. The smell hit him first and nearly made him gag. It didn't matter how many times he smelt death, he didn't like it.

"Werewolves turn back into human form once they're killed, right?" Sam asked his father, swallowing thickly and willing himself not to throw up in front of the man … but the sight and smell of the dead wolf at their feet was making it hard to do so.

John nodded, poking at the dead animal with a stick he'd seemed to procure from nowhere. Sam silently wished his father would just leave the animal alone. It was obviously an innocent victim in whatever was going on here. The only clue it would give them now was that something was completely wrong here.

"So not a werewolf then?"

"Apparently not." John stood up straighter and dropped the stick with disgust written all over his face. Sam felt his father's hand clamp onto his shoulder before he felt himself being lead back towards the path.

"What's going on here?"

"I don't know but I'm going to find out." John said, determination in his voice. "Let's keep going."

xXx

Caleb fell to his knees inside their cave. Dean hung from his side but what scared him the most was that Caleb was doing all the clinging. Dean was barely holding on, almost a dead weight of blood, sweat and flesh.

"Deuce, you stupid son of a bitch!" Caleb breathed and allowed Dean to slip from his grasp. He controlled the younger man's descent to the hard rocky ground and then almost fell on top of him.

His head was still buzzing from the attack. What the hell were those things?

Caleb had never seen anything like it in all his years hunting so far. It wasn't just his head that was still buzzing - it was his whole freaking body. It was like the killer fireflies had been stabbing him over and over again with tiny little pins.

With his hands on either side of Dean's body, Caleb breathed heavily as he pushed himself up. He looked down at Dean. The kid's eyes were closed. "Come on, Deuce, don't do this to me now." Caleb complained in a quiet tired voice.

He tried to sit up more so he didn't need the support of his arms. He needed his arms - his hands - to fix whatever damage Dean had added to his already serious injury.

Moving shirt and damaged T-shirt aside, Caleb grimaced. "You certainly know how to mess yourself up."

He went about trying to patch his friend up as best he could, which was hard with the minimal supplies they had. He ripped open Dean's bag that he had retrieved from the path before he had been attacked by Tinkerbell and her friends, and smiled triumphantly – the first aid kit was in there like he knew it would be. This would have to be enough until they got out of this situation.

Caleb worked silently, rolling Dean onto his side in order to get to both sides of the wound. He pulled the wet bloody make-shift bandages away from the wounds and replaced them with gauze, watching in a little bit of terror as the white gauze soaked up his friend's blood.

Once both pieces of gauze became completely sodden with blood, Caleb pulled them away from Dean and replaced them with some more. Once he felt like he had done enough to stop the blood flow, Caleb used a long strip of bandage around his friend to keep the gauze pressed against the wound. The job was made more difficult with Dean being completely out of it and unable to help.

Once the job was done, Caleb sat back and wiped his arm across his forehead, breathing a heavy sigh.

"You know, you can wake up now if you want. It'd be just like you too, waking up once I have done all the work. Slacker," Caleb rambled to Dean who didn't move a muscle.

Caleb pulled his gaze away from Dean and looked around the small area of their cave. They couldn't stay here too much longer, not with Dean injured the way he was. After all they had been through over the years, of all the creatures they had fought, Caleb really didn't want to see his friend go down in a dank cave because Caleb couldn't beat a couple of faeries.

Faeries … Caleb snorted. Was that what he was dealing with here? Caleb couldn't be sure. He'd never come across Faeries before and it was one subject that his mentors hadn't really gone into any real detail about. Faeries or not … it was embarrassing to be taken down by something so small and … glowy.

Against better judgement, Caleb pulled out his cell phone again and looked at the display. Just like before when he had been in the cave, he had no reception. He wasn't sure why he had even checked. He had known there would be no reception. Too damn reliant on technology. He was going to have to venture outside again and he was going to have to do it soon.

"Deuce," Caleb called, patting Dean lightly on the cheek. "Deuce, come on, man. Wake up." He didn't want to leave again and have Dean wake up all panicked.

"I swear I'm gonna kick your ass when we get back if you don't wake the fuck up."

Threatening to kick Dean's ass had never really worked in the past because the little shit knew it was a hollow threat … but it never stopped Caleb from threatening him anyway.

"In fact. I'm going to kick your ass anyway for that stupid stunt you pulled out there. What were you thinking? Running out there like that? You could have been killed, you dick."

Caleb waited for a reply, snarky or otherwise and closed his eyes when he received none. Dean was out for the count.

Caleb planted his butt on the ground and crossed his legs, letting his elbows rest on his knees. He would give Dean a chance to come back to consciousness. Caleb closed his eyes and lines creased his forehead. He tried to centre himself, become accustomed to the area around him and then reach out further.

He searched for Sam, for Mac … for someone familiar, for someone that could help them. But all he got for his efforts were pain and heat, a feverish heat that started from his abdomen and spread out through his body, making his blood pump faster to accommodate what he had lost, to battle against the pain.

Caleb's eyes snapped open and automatically locked onto the form of his best friend lying before him. He pulled his hand to his own stomach and felt nothing but toned muscle and unmarred clothing. He was fine. But Dean on the other hand, wasn't doing so well. He could sense Dean with no problem. He didn't even have to try. So when he did try to access his powers Dean's pain was just amplified.

No, sitting here and trying to reach out to someone wasn't any way to pass the time. Caleb pushed himself to his feet and began to walk around the cave. There wasn't much to it. But now that he really had the chance to pay attention he noticed that the rocky walls, while uneven, were almost smooth.

Caleb ran his hand along the wall. It almost felt like some kind of granite or marble to the touch. It wasn't a normal kind of rock that was for sure. He wondered what it was and what it was about it that prevented his powers from getting past it. He had never come across anything like it before.

The things certain people could do if they got their hands on this kind of rock made him nervous. It was like his very own version of Kryptonite. It made him as about psychically useless as the next person. Caleb had always considered his powers and his demonic heritage a curse … but when he didn't have them there in hand he felt handicapped.

"Damien?"

The voice was quiet and rough but it was the most beautiful thing Caleb had heard in a while. He rushed the few steps over to Dean and knelt down on both knees. "Take it easy, dude."

"What's ...g-going on?"

"You're an idiot is what's going on."

"What'd ... I do?" Dean asked, frowning.

The younger man licked his dry lips, his hands pushing at the ground in a weak attempt at trying to push himself up. Caleb reached for him, grabbing hold of Dean's elbow to help him.

"Don't move around too much yet, I just stopped you bleeding all over the decor."

Dean's hand came to rest on his stomach and he squinted up at Caleb. He allowed himself to be situated against the rock wall but Caleb noticed he looked way too pasty.

"'happened out there?" Dean asked.

"What do you remember?" Caleb asked him. He reached up and felt Dean's forehead. He remained quiet but it concerned him when Dean didn't attempt to bat his hand away. That said more than any words could ever say.

"I … I remember finding you ..." Dean trailed off, his face scrunched up in concentration. Caleb saw the moment, Dean sorted out his thoughts and memories. Dean's green eyes locked on his. "What were those ... things?

"Your guess is as good as mine, dude."

"Faeries?"

Caleb shook his head. "I don't know. I don't think so. I admit I don't know half as much about them as I should I guess but I didn't see any Tinkerbell. Just small glowing dots … There was nothing of them. Just..."

"Glowing dots," Dean finished for him.

"Hurt like a bitch too. What I imagine getting hit by acid rain would feel like or something."

"Lucky," Dean stated, apparently deciding to continue a running theme of one word answers. It was another thing that made Caleb uneasy. Dean never lacked words … or the effort to impart them to anyone.

"Oh yeah?" Caleb raised an eyebrow. "You and me have a different definition of the term 'lucky', I think."

Dean just grinned. "Lucky you had me..."

"Maybe," Caleb reluctantly agreed and squeezed Dean's shoulder to emphasise he was deadly serious. "You ever do something so boneheaded again and I'll kill you myself. I thought I told you to stay here."

"I couldn't just lay here …. while you w...were out there getting your ass handed to you."

"You could have died, Deuce."

"So could you, Damien. I … I couldn't let that happen."

"I appreciate that you care, dude, but ...," Caleb joked.

"You're my ticket out of here," Dean dead-panned.

Caleb rolled his eyes. "I'm touched by your obvious concern for my well being."

"You're welcome."

"How are you feeling?" Caleb asked, moving Dean's hand away to pull his ruined T-shirt away from the wound. The bandages had a small red stain where they were holding the gauze in place but otherwise, the bleeding had stopped free-flowing.

"Fine."

"Yeah, that instils me with confidence," Caleb replied, dryly. "You ready to get out of here?"

Dean closed his eyes and nodded, his whole body was vibrating, shivering. Dean was trying to hide it, Caleb could tell by the way he was holding himself but also because he knew Dean and that was what Dean did. He never showed what was bothering him, or hurting him. It drove Caleb crazy.

"I was hoping you'd say that." Caleb said, keeping his voice light as he went to stand. "I'm going to go out there and see if ..."

Before he could stand completely, Caleb found his wrist encased in Dean's sweaty palm. "No."

"No?" Caleb challenged, but lowered himself to his knees once more.

"You're ..." Dean panted, struggling to find the breath to say what he wanted to say. "You're not going out there alone again."

"Who died and made you boss?" Caleb asked, concern unable to hide away on his face. Dean was struggling.

"You almost did ... t-the last time you went out there alone." Droplets of sweat pooled on Dean's eyelashes, made his hair stick to his head and made him look much younger than his twenty years. "We're getting out of here ... together … the both of us. Let's just make a run for it."

"Run for it? Have you heard yourself? Have you seen yourself?" Caleb asked incredulously. How was he supposed to support Dean and fight off whatever it was out there? "If those things come back?"

"You're … not going out there alone." Dean told him once more, not budging. He never did when he got an idea in his head. He was a stubborn ass. He was a Winchester.

Caleb held Dean's determined gaze for a few minutes before he sighed loudly and looked away. "You are a pain in my ass."

Dean smiled, the motion tearing away the pain and exhaustion for just a moment, making Caleb believe that maybe they could do this. Just maybe they could both get out of this alive.

Xxx

"What the hell happened here?" John asked as he surveyed the area around them.

"Definitely not a werewolf," Sam clarified, although he knew that he didn't need to. He was just speaking for the sake of speaking now. He was filing in the gap that was usually his brother's incessant chatter.

Kneeling by one of the bodies clothed in native Indian attire, John moved his hands over the man's form, checking in pockets, checking for any obvious wounds that would tell them how this man and his companions died. From the looks of things Sam didn't think his father was going to find an obvious answer.

Sam turned away from his father and walked over to another body lying by a tree. He could see another person lying on the track wearing the same kind of clothing and he didn't doubt they were in the same condition. What had killed them? That was a mystery.

Sam knelt down by the body of the man at the base of the tree. His outfit was pretty authentic as far as Sam could see. "They look like they were a part of some pretty hardcore re-enactment group or something." Sam said, shaking his head. He didn't see what the point was of pretending to be something you weren't. It was often why he butted heads with his father so much, he guessed. Sam didn't want to be a hunter and he was too stubborn to pretend to placate his family.

"Whatever they were doing out here, I cant find a cause of death," John stated.

"It's like they just keeled over and died. Just like the ranger station was left as if the Rangers just got up and left." Sam concluded.

Standing, Sam searched the area. He wasn't a bad tracker. He'd been trained by the best and was pretty confident in these situations even if he was confident begrudgingly. Something caught his attention and Sam moved towards it. There on the ground was specks of something against the light dirt coloured path, something darker, richer.

Kneeling down, Sam reached out and touched the marks with his fingertips. They came away wet and Sam grimaced, bringing his hand up so he could see. His fingertips were now painted red, but this was no nail polish or war paint. Sam would recognise the sight of this substance anywhere.

"Dad!" Sam called. "I've found something."

It wasn't long before he heard John's footsteps and the man's presence behind him. "What is it?"

"Blood." Sam held up his hand to show his father before he wiped the offending substance on his shirt.

His father was suddenly moving past him and kneeling down along where the forest and the path met. "There's more here, a lot more." John told him.

"None of these guys have any injuries that we've seen."

"So where did it come from? Maybe whatever killed them?"

Or maybe Dean or Caleb. Sam didn't want to say that out loud because he didn't want to believe that his brother or Caleb were hurt. Sam was so sick to death of seeing his family injured and hurt and near death and all the lovely side effects of this life style. It was why he wanted out.

John brought his hand up to his nose, sniffing the blood. Sam had no idea whether it was because his Dad wanted to make sure if it really was blood, or whether his father had suddenly grown a new power that allowed him to tell whose blood it was from the scent alone.

Sam didn't need that power. He already knew that blood belonged to his family because that was their luck.

"Ahh!" Sam jumped to the side and grabbed his arm at the sudden shock of pain there. It had felt like someone had jabbed him with a needle. He looked around himself and rubbed at his arm, trying to work out where the sudden pain had come from.

"Sammy?" John asked, standing. "You okay?"

"Yeah … ow!" Sam cried again and swung around, feeling a painful pinprick like sensation in the middle of his back. Light crossed his vision, like a small little blur and then he felt another jab in his lower leg. His gaze automatically sought out the cause of the pain, finding a small little ball of light hovering.

"What the hell?"

His Dad's question beat his own and suddenly he felt surrounded. Like mosquito's hovering to get a taste of his blood, the little glowing balls of light started coming at him from all directions, swooping at his body, causing pain to radiate from everywhere.

The attack happened so fast that all Sam could do was swipe at them, try to hold them at bay. He heard his father shout at him or to him, or at the creatures but the sound was overtaken but the buzzing he could feel in his head and all over his body. Sam dropped to the ground and curled up into a ball.

He cried out, waving his arm around to try and get them to go away, to leave him alone but that didn't work, they just kept dive bombing him. Maybe this was how the men in Indian clothing died … it was like death from a thousand little cuts.

"Sammy!" His father's voice roared and then suddenly Sam felt himself being dragged up. He remained tightly coiled as his father tried to pull him out of their reach.

It was the moment his father got a good grip on him that Sam felt the attacks lessen to the point where he was thrumming but the pain was ebbing away. Cautiously opening his eyes, Sam felt his father's grip loosen and then disappear all together.

"Oh know you don't," John murmered.

Sam whipped his head up and around to see his father. The man was backing up slowly. He looked unsure and for entities that didn't have any expression, the firefly like creatures looked kind of unsure as well.

"What's going on?" Sam asked, wincing as he got back to his feet.

"I don't know, Sam. But I want you to get out of here."

"What?" Sam started, tensing when he saw the lights buzz around his father a little faster. "What do you mean get out of here?" Sam hissed more quietly. "I am not leaving you here."

"Go and find your brother, Sam! That's an order. I'll keep our little friends occupied."

"No." Sam shook his head. He couldn't believe his father just expected him to leave when he was in danger. These things could have been what had killed the people lying cold around them. There was no way Sam could just leave. As much as the man drove him nuts he was still his father and he loved him.

John sighed. He closed his eyes and Sam watched as his face hardened. When John's eyes opened again Sam knew that he was just about to be barked at.

"I said go, Sam! Now!"

And he wasn't disappointed.

Apparently the group of hovering lights didn't like his father's tone any better than he did because after a second of silence between them all, Sam watched in horror as the lights all converged on his father.

"Dad!" Sam shouted, rushing over to the man who had fallen back under the assault. Sam would never get used to his father's howl of pain no matter how many times he had heard it over the years.

Sam skidded to a stop in front of John who was now copying his previous state, curled up trying to ward the little lights away. But this was different.

Sam watched in fascinated horror as unlike before, this time the little lights seemed to be absorbed into his father's skin. They didn't just bounce off and come back again and again. They were entering his father through every little pore, illuminating his skin in an unnatural light.

The whole light show going on underneath his father's skin made his veins stand out to the point where his Dad didn't even really look human.

John cried out, the sound almost as inhuman as he looked. He convulsed as he struggled and Sam couldn't stand it any longer. He dropped to his knees and pulled at his father's arms pulling them down from his face. As suddenly as it all had started. It stopped. John collapsed to the ground, almost taking Sam down with him.

"Dad! Shit! Dad!" Sam panicked and almost jumped out of his skin when John's eyes suddenly opened.

Sam looked down into his father's eyes but instead of the hazel-brown colouring he usually saw this time they were glowing white, almost blindingly so.

Before Sam could say another word he felt himself sailing through the air and landing with a thud in the dirt. Sam scrambled backwards and then managed to get his feet under him.

"Dad! Snap out of it!" He said, holding his hands out in front of him as if that placating gesture alone was going to stop whatever was about to happen.

Sam watched as his father looked from him and then cocked his head to the side, his eyes completely taken over by the bright white light. Sam tensed and took another step back as John slowly reached into his jacket and pulled out the .45 Sam knew his father kept in the inside pocket.

"Whoa … Dad, it's me. It's Sam," Sam tried, starting to think that maybe his father had a point. Maybe he should make a run for it.

"Stop it." John's voice came as a surprise. It held a hollow sound to it that seemed so unnatural. It was like his father was speaking through one of those kid microphones, the ones that made your voice sound echoey.

"Stop what?"

"Stop the pain." John didn't wait for Sam to respond. He pulled the trigger.

Xxx

"It's quiet out here."

Caleb waited for his friend to respond and tried not to worry further when Dean didn't offer him a reply. They had only been walking for about two minutes. It wasn't long in the grand scheme of things but to Dean who was barely hanging on, it must have seemed like a lifetime.

"It's too quiet," he continued, huffing with effort as Dean tripped over a small rock on the path. The kid's strength and co-ordination was shot to hell. "Watch it, clumsy," Caleb groused..

"Sorry," Dean breathed.

With Dean's arm slung over his shoulder and his body pressed against his, Caleb could almost feel the effort it was taking for Dean to walk, to breath, to keep himself conscious. A part of Caleb almost wished Dean would pass out. It would allow Caleb to toss him over his shoulder and move faster.

"It isn't easy lugging your heavy ass around, y'know," Caleb complained again. It was a distraction of course. Caleb would lug Dean's heavy ass to the ends of the earth if that's what it took to make him okay, to make him safe. But it didn't pay to remind Dean of that too much. It would ruin his hard worked for tough guy image.

"What...ever … tough g-guy."

Who was the psychic here? That was what Caleb wondered sometimes. The kid was way too intuitive for his own good. Or maybe he was just too easy too read.

"You need me to stop?" Caleb asked, being serious for a second. If Dean needed to stop, they would stop, faeries be damned.

Dean shook his head. "Keep going."

Sudden pain and confusion hit him with enough force to leave him winded. He came to a dead stop and almost dropped Dean to the ground. The sensation was like crashing waves against his skull.

"Damien?" Dean called, his grip suddenly tightening with strength that Caleb had been sure he didn't possess any more.

"Fuck!"

"What … what is it?" Dean asked, his gaze not leaving Caleb's.

"Something's wrong." Caleb frowned, trying to get his powers to co-operate with him.

The feeling crashed into him again. Worry, stress, pain … panic. "Sam."

Dean tensed beside him. "Sam? Damien … what?"

Caleb opened his eyes, straightened himself and repositioned his grip on Dean once more. "Sam is here. I can feel him." It was familiar now. He would recognise that link anywhere. But the kid was scared.

"s'he okay?" Dean asked. The younger man was suddenly much more alert. Typically the thought of his brother in danger brought about a new strength that had been hiding there in his reserves.

"I don't know. Come on ..."

He was about to set off again when the sound of something off in the distance made them both tense. Crashing footsteps, breaking twigs and branches and panted breath all slowly started to get louder and louder. Caleb pulled Dean behind him, not willing to have him in the open with a possible threat about to happen upon them.

A large tangle of teenage arms and legs and shaggy brown hair came crashing through the bushes. Caleb kept one hand on Dean, not willing to let him go as he reached out and snagged Sam's shirt sleeve, pulling him to a halt.

"Sammy!" Caleb hissed, watching as sixteen year old looked surprised, breathing hard.

Sam bent over and tried to catch his breath for a moment as Caleb tried to wait patiently.

"Sammy!" Dean said, trying to move back around Caleb, stumbling into his friend's back as his strength was dwindling. Apparently that extra reserve of strength had been short lived. "Sammy! Are you okay?"

"Dean?" Sam looked up and pulled himself to his full height, his chest heaving from exhaustion. The youngest hunter placed his hand on Dean's shoulder and then upon seeing his brother's state, his eyes widened again and he stepped in to offer support.

Caleb stepped aside for a moment and allowed Sam to take his place.

"Sam?" He questioned?

Sam looked at Caleb and then around the older psychic as if waiting for something else to come out of the bushes. "It's Dad," he told them.

"Dad?" Dean asked.

"We came out here," Sam explained. "To find you guys. We found the bodies of the dead ..."

"Indian wannabes?" Caleb offered.

"Yeah," Sam agreed, nodding. "We were attacked by these … I don't even know what they were."

"Nasty fireflies?"

Sam nodded again.

"We've met them." Caleb shared a look with Dean.

"They attacked Dad, they got inside him."

"What do you mean they got inside him?" Caleb asked, not liking the sound of this new development.

"I mean they got inside him, just sort of absorbed through his skin."

"Like possession?" Dean asked.

Caleb looked back at his friend, concerned at how hard it seemed to be for Dean to hold his head up. A bead of sweat ran down Dean's face as he shivered. Caleb didn't miss the way Sam automatically moved closer.

"Yes. Like possession. He tried to kill me. If he hadn't had the safety on he would have killed me."

Caleb found himself shoved to the ground. The motion was so sudden that it had caught him completely off guard. He fell to the ground as the sound of a gunshot echoed through the forest around them. Panic seized him. Who had been shot? Where had the gun come from?

He whipped his gun out from the waist band of his jeans and got to his feet, automatically looking for the Winchesters. He found them, Dean was on the ground, eyes closed, face slack. Caleb's heart tripped a beat before he realised if Dean were dead he would know.

"It wasn't meant to be him." It was John's voice but it wasn't at the same time. It sounded all wrong and distorted.

"Dad." Sam said from where he was kneeling by Dean.

The younger hunter was checking for a pulse while he kept his eyes on his father. Caleb just hoped that he continued to feel one. Dean's presence in his mind was getting weaker and weaker.

"Get out of him now!" Sam demanded, his voice angry and scared all at the same time.

John's eyes locked onto Caleb's and it put a chill down the psychic's spine. The blinding white of John's eyes felt like they could burn right through you. Caleb raised his gun and pointed it at the man. It felt wrong doing so. John was his mentor, like a father figure to him … he had to remember that despite what he looked like, this was not John Winchester.

"Why?" The creatures controlling John spoke and Caleb really wished they wouldn't.

"Who … or what are you?" Caleb asked, his aim steady.

"That does not matter."

"You attacked me, shot my friend and are currently controlling someone I care about. It matters a fucking lot. Now tell me who you are!" Caleb demanded angrily.

"We do not have a name."

"What are you doing here? What do you want?"

"We want … peace, strength, power.."

"You killed those men."

"They were a means to an end."

"What end?"

"Yours."

"What?" Caleb asked. "Why?"

"Your psychic energy. It's a threat to us."

"My psychic ..." Caleb trailed off. "What about the other people? That hiker that was killed?"

"His psychic energy brought us out of our peaceful existence."

"He was psychic?" What were the odds, Caleb wondered. "That's why you killed him?"

"It called to us. Eliminate the threat and grow stronger. We haven't come across that psychic energy in a long time."

"Why did you take his heart?"

"To grow stronger."

Caleb shook his head. This was sounding like a bad b-grade scifi movie and he would have laughed if he wasn't currently pointing a gun at his possessed mentor and Dean was bleeding out on the dirt path.

"He was nothing compared to what we feel in you. Your energy is both alluring and frightening all at once."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"We're going to take your heart. Become even stronger. We can feel it beating from here."

"Why didn't you just kill me when you had the chance then, jump into me and take the damn thing?" Caleb asked. He didn't know why he was wasting time. But the truth was he wasn't sure what to do. His gun was pointed at John but could he shoot his mentor? And would it do any good if he did?

"You're protected. You're energy if devoured makes us stronger but it also protects you from us. We cant get through."

"That's why you cant get past those rocks back there. Same reason you couldn't jump into me."

John's gaze turned to Sam. "Or that one."

"That's why you possessed the wolf. In a corporal body your not bound by that barrier," Sam spoke, looking at both Caleb and then John.

"Yes."

"Well, I hate to break it to you, Tink, but you're not feasting on anyone any more."

John cocked his head to the side. "You can not stop me."

"Think again." Caleb pulled the trigger and it was almost as if he could see his bullet flying through the air in slow motion.

"Dad!"

The bullet hit its mark, hitting John in the shoulder. Caleb watched him drop and wondered if he'd get John's hunting version of a court martial for shooting a commanding officer. If the armed forces dealt with supernatural possessions, Caleb was sure the rules wouldn't be so clear cut.

"Caleb, what the hell?" Sam exclaimed as Caleb rushed over to him.

"Shut up and listen to me. Those things are effected by psychic energy? Well lets give them some, send them packing."

"What?" Sam asked. "How?"

Both Sam and Caleb snapped their eyes to John's prone form as his body began to shake and convulse. Suddenly his mouth opened and streams of bright little firefly like creatures exited his eyes and mouth, like they were being spewed from his body.

Caleb grabbed Sam by the arm and forced the kid to look at him. "Close your eyes and will them away."

"What?"

"For fuck sake, just trust me, Sammy!"

With one last look at Caleb, Sam closed his eyes and attempted to concentrate.

"Will them out of existence. Just concentrate on me. Find that familiar link in your head and connect to that and I'll do the rest. Use your instinct, Sammy," Caleb told him. He knew Sam was going to be a powerful psychic one day. It was never discussed because John didn't want to acknowledge it, but Caleb knew it. He and Mac had been trying to secretly hone Sam's abilities since he had been a kid.

Caleb closed his own eyes and put his own practice into action. He'd been able to do many pretty amazing things with his powers. He wasn't telekinetic like his father but it was amazing what you could do with the mind.

He concentrated on the entities he could feel hovering erratically around them. They were confused. They hadn't expected him to shoot and now they had no host and nowhere to go. This was their only chance. Keeping his hands on Sam, Caleb build up energy, trying to build up the equivalent of a psychic punch.

He could feel pressure, building, he could feel Sam's own efforts aiding his and Caleb felt strong. He opened his eyes, glaring at the glowing specks buzzing around them and lashed out with his mind, feeling Sam following suit. In a ray of sparks, painful frightened cries, the fireflies exploded above them, leaving behind a quiet lull that was almost disorientating.

Caleb felt Sam slump beside him, breathing hard. He looked over at the kid and found him rubbing at his forehead. Sam wasn't the only one with a headache. That had taken some serious effort.

"You okay?" Caleb asked, squeezing Sam's shoulder.

"No ..." Sam admitted, headache suddenly forgotten as he shrugged out of Caleb's grip and leant over his brother.

Caleb nodded and wanted to stay there with Dean but his friend wasn't the only one injured. Caleb stood and quickly jogged over to where John was still lying. Blood oozed from the shoulder wound Caleb had given him and he looked white, sickly so.

"John? Johnny?" Caleb asked, pressing his fingers to the man's throat to check for a pulse. It was there, fast but strong.

"How's he doing, Sam?" Caleb asked as raised his only remaining T-shirt over his head, slipping his arms out of it. He felt a breeze on the bare skin of his back and chest but ignored it. His own comfort could come later. Now he needed to stop another Winchester from bleeding.

"Not good. He needs a hospital, Caleb. Like yesterday."

"Hold on," Caleb said as he used one hand to press his T-shirt against John's shoulder and his other hand to fish his cell phone out of his jeans pocket.

"What are you doing? Our phones are useless."

"Maybe not." Caleb smiled with relief as he saw almost all his reception bars visible. He dialled 911 and then put the phone to his ear. He would explain to Sam later. Right now he just hoped they hadn't gotten help too late for Dean.

**TBC...**

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**A/N-2:** I hope that didn't fall short after that ridiculously long wait! Again, I apologise! Thank you so much for reading and I wont promise you that it wont be as long next time. I plan not to let you wait that long but I think we all know life has a way of throwing Curve balls, right?

One chapter left guys. I will hopefully see you all soon :)

**Tara x0x**


	5. Epilogue

**Chapter 5. Epilogue**

**A/N1:** Hey Everyone! This is the last chapter. I would firstly like to say a very sincere apology to **Nana56** who bought this fic in a** KazCon **writers auction over a year ago. I am so very sorry that it took so long together and I hope it didn't fall short of what you wanted. I also wanted to apolgise to everyone who might have been waiting on updates. I am sorry they came so far apart from each other. I never intended that to be the case and I hope like crazy life allows me to post more regularly with any future Multi-chapter fics.

I also want to thank each and every person that has read and reviewed … even those of you that just read and didn't leave a review. I hope I entertained you, I hope you enjoyed and thank you for giving me some of your time.

I would like to thank** Angelustatt** (my bestest friend – awwww) for reading over this for me. Any grammatical mistakes are my own.

Okay, I guess now I should shut up and just let you read, huh? Well here goes … hope it isn't too suck of an ending :)

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**Chapter 5. Epilogue**

"I don't know why you let him sign himself out." Sam's distaste for his father's choices had never been hidden by the teen and nothing had changed in the last week they had been holed up in the hospital.

It amazed Caleb that the oldest and youngest Winchester could band together and be a damn formidable team when pushed, when in danger. But once the storm passed and all was on the mend again it was like a switch was flipped and they were enemies again. It was tiring. And if it was tiring for him he could only imagine and watch how tiring it was for Dean.

"Last I checked, Sam, your brother was an adult."

"He's not twenty one yet."

"He is on his drivers license," Caleb supplied and then ducked his head when he received twin dark glares for his trouble. It was better that he went back to being silent observer to the battle in front of him.

"He can make his own decisions," John continued, his gaze back on his youngest son.

"Since when?" Sam challenged. "Since when haven't you pulled rank when you wanted to. You know he'd follow your orders."

Sam was right about that. It was probably what infuriated both Winchesters so much. Caleb on the other hand didn't know what to think about that. Was it a good thing that Dean followed his father's orders so blindly. If Caleb were honest? It worried the hell out of him.

John sighed. "So I'm wrong for giving orders and I'm wrong when I don't give orders. Which is it, Sam? Because I don't know any more."

Sam glared at his father and then huffed. "You just don't get it!" He accused and then turned around and slammed out of the front of the house, the screen door slamming behind him.

John turned to look at Caleb in frustration and the psychic held up his hands in a manner that told his mentor he wanted nothing to do with it. "All I have to say, Johnny, is welcome to the teenage years."

"Dean was never like this," John countered.

"That's because Dean was never a normal," Caleb told him.

Any chance at normal Dean had was ruined the night he had witnessed his mother burn on the ceiling of his baby brother's room. It was something that John had used to his advantage. Caleb didn't think the older man did it on purpose but he took for granted that Dean was always there, always doing the right thing, always picking up the slack when John didn't, or couldn't.

"Sam will get over it," Caleb tried to assure, patting John on the shoulder. He stopped short when John winced and ducked away from him with a scowl. "Sorry ..." He had almost forgotten the bullet he had put in the older man's shoulder. Dean wasn't the only person who had signed himself out against medical advice.

"Watch it, Junior."

"Sorry," Caleb said again.

"Stop apologising," John sighed and re-adjusted his arm in the hospital issued sling hanging around his neck.

Caleb opened his mouth, about to apologise for apologising when he decided against that. It wasn't likely to go down very well. John was in a foul mood. Arguing with Sam coupled with pain was never a good combination.

"It doesn't change anything."

John sat down at the kitchen table. Caleb remained standing, watching John. He didn't know what to do with John's silence. They had spoken at the hospital but they hadn't had "the big" talk that Caleb was waiting for. The talk where John told him how much he had screwed up.

John raised his eyes to meet Caleb's. "What do you want me to say, Caleb? It was a bad hunt, Dean got hurt."

"He could have died."

"But he didn't."

"Luckily."

John shook his head. "No luck about it, kid. You kept him alive until you could get him out of there."

"We should have never been stuck there in the first place." Caleb understood that sometimes things were out of his control. He didn't like it, but he accepted it. But how could he have totally misread the hunt entirely? How could he have allowed Dean to be hurt because of it?

"You cant predict everything. You came across something you weren't prepared for, something none of us have come across before. You weren't the only one to be caught off-guard."

"Don't remind me," Caleb huffed.

John frowned, obviously not understanding.

"I shot you," Caleb reminded his mentor.

John sighed, comprehension making way on his features. "We've been over this. You did what you had to," he said tiredly.

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"You want me to rip you a new one? Would that make you feel better?"

"Maybe ..." It wouldn't. He hated fighting with John, but even more he hated letting him down. It was much easier when John was the one in the wrong, when John was the one to make the mistake, when John put his kids in danger because then Caleb could get angry at him. He could feel justified. It gave him someone to rage against. But this time it was all on him. "I shot you."

"You had no choice."

"There should have never been a reason to make that choice. It was supposed to be a simple hunt. What is the use of having this fucking psychic curse if I cant help the people I care about? Dean could have died … so could you." He hated that. What was the use of being psychic if you couldn't prevent fuck-ups like this?

"You're right. It shouldn't have happened. I agree and I think that you two knuckle-heads need to pay more attention. You need to stop walking into situations so blase like you invincible. You need to concentrate, Caleb. But you weren't the only one to walk into this one. You couldn't have known what you were dealing with and you needed to make a heavy decision out there and you did it. You kept Dean alive and you had what it took to take the enemy out despite the danger to someone you care about. I'm not mad … I'm proud."

"Proud?" Dean was signing himself out AMA, John was nursing a bullet to the soldier and the man was proud. Caleb was starting to understand Sam for not understanding his father. It was moments like these that he felt like that thirteen year old boy again, back to a time when adults just made no damn sense.

"Don't let it go to your head. And don't make a habit of taking a shot at me … but your damn right I'm proud."

Caleb stared at John for a moment. This wasn't the reaction he had been expecting. "You feeling okay?" he asked, slowly sinking into the chair opposite John's at the table.

John rolled his eyes. "Don't be a smart ass and take a compliment when I give it."

"Yes sir. Seriously though, are you feeling okay." As much as his mentor drove him insane and made him angry at times he had been horrified by what he'd had to do once everything had calmed down and it'd sunk in that he had actually shot him. He, Caleb Reaves had shot John Winchester.

"It takes more than a bullet to keep me down."

It had been said with a smile, a joke. But it scared Caleb. Because John Winchester was one of those people that always seemed invincible … until you were faced with his mortality. John wasn't invincible … and this latest hunt had been a big reminder of that.

"Good to know." Caleb decided to keep his fears to himself. He had already revealed too much. "I think I'll go check on Dean."

"You do that."

Caleb took one last look at John and then turned around and headed into the living room and up the stairs. John was sitting in the kitchen, arm in a sling but fine for the most part, Sam was outside somewhere sulking and Dean was up resting in the room that he shared with his brother. All Winchesters were accounted for.

Caleb raised his hand to knock on Dean's door and then thought better of it. If the kid was asleep then Caleb didn't want to wake him. Instead he grabbed the door handle the turned it, pushing the door open quietly. He quickly popped his head through the door.

"What are you doing, Damien?"

"Deuce?"

"You were expecting someone else?" Dean asked from where he was lying under the covers on his bed. He had a comic in his hands. He held it up. "You've gotta have some better reading material in your room, right?"

Caleb walked in and closed the door. "I have a few books in there."

"I was thinking more along the lines of certain magazines."

"You're supposed to be resting."

"I am resting. I'm bored."

"Oh God, Dean Winchester is bored. Watch out world."

"Shut up. How's Dad?"

"His usual self."

"Sammy?"

"Outside hopefully simmering down."

"Do I want to know?"

"Probably not." Caleb wasn't going to trouble him with his brother and father's ongoing battle of wills. There would be plenty of time for Dean to worry about that when he was better. There would be plenty of moments for him to witness it again. Now was Dean's time to relax, to take it easy and Caleb was going to make sure that Dean got this moment.

"Where's Jim?" Dean asked, tearing Caleb from his silent oath.

"Picking up Dad from the airport," Caleb told him, walking over to the bed and taking a seat on the edge.

"Mac's coming?"

"You know Dad, not happy unless he has control of his favourite patient."

Dean sighed. "I'm just hate that he has to see me as a patient so often."

"Me too," Caleb agreed. He agreed more than Dean knew. He was supposed to be in Knight Training. He was in training to be Dean's protector. He was doing a bang up job so far. "But think of everything you can milk out of this."

"I'm not ten any more, Dude," Dean reminded him. "I think I'm more likely to get my ass kicked as soon as I'm better. We fucked up big time with this one."

Caleb shook his head. He'd been through this. John was mad but for once it wasn't at them. He was mad that Dean had been hurt but he wasn't blaming them. It wouldn't have mattered even if he had of because Caleb would have taken all the blame. He felt like it was his fault anyway.

"We had no idea what we were fighting against." Caleb inwardly smiled as he realised how much his reasoning to Dean sounded like what John had been trying to convince him of. Maybe the old man wasn't wrong … maybe a little.

"What were those things?"

"Honestly? I have no idea."

"What does Jim say?"

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy," Caleb said in his best Pastor Jim impersonation.

"What?" Dean just looked more confused.

"Shakespeare," Caleb sighed, rolling his eyes and then smiling back at Dean.

"What does that mean?"

"It means that he has no idea. He's been hard pressed to find anyone that has come across anything remotely like them."

Dean was quiet for a moment, looking down at the comic still in his hands. He knew how Dean must be feeling. It was weird to have nothing at all to go on. There was always some lore, something to explain what they saw, what had happened. But this time they had nothing but their own experience to go by.

"Are they gone? Like dead?" Dean asked, looking up at Caleb.

"I don't know. They disappeared. It certainly felt like we'd killed them but with not a lot to go on I cant be a hundred per cent, besides, even if we did there could be more where they came from. Jim is having that area watched. We aren't totally blind. We learnt some things about those creepy little lights. We know psychic energy attracts them..."

"We know that it can also send them packing."

"And we know it cant directly attack a psychic … it needs a non-psychic host. That's where your old man came in."

"Why didn't it just use me to get to you then?"

That was a good question. Everything had happened so fast, all Caleb could remember worrying about was getting Dean out of there and to a hospital. "Maybe you were too injured."

"Maybe ..."

"No use guessing and worrying over it. We'll take things as they come. Besides, Jim is putting an alert out there. Letting other hunters in the brotherhood know what we know about them."

"He's putting out a memo warning others about killer Tinkerbells?"

"Something to that effect," Caleb agreed, smirking, feeling the mood lighten a little.

The sound of the door opening downstairs put a halt to any more conversation. "Dad and Jim are back. Prepare to poked and prodded … a far worse fate than any psychotic faerie could put you through, I can assure," Caleb teased and then stood as he could hear footsteps coming up the stairs. They didn't belong to a member of the Triad … they were Sam's.

Dean looked up at him, putting the comic aside on the bedspread. "You could play diversion for me."

"Not a chance, Deuce. But if you're a good boy I might bring you up some dessert. Jim baked chocolate pie." Jim had gotten the recipe from one of his parishioners and ever since Dean had been begging him to try it. Jim was a big softy when they were hurt or sick.

"_Chocolate_ pie?"

"You heard me … maybe some ice cream on top if I'm feeling nice and Mac says you can."

The door to the room opened and the lanky teenage form of Sam Winchester walked into the room. He was in a better mood than he had been moments ago. Mac's presence would allay his fears for his brother and hopefully calm the storm brewing between the two warring Winchesters.

"Dean! You're awake."

"No, I'm asleep sitting up with my eyes open," Dean replied sarcastically as his brother came further into the room.

"Sleep talking too, apparently," Caleb joined in.

"Shut up. You're both morons," Sam said, but Caleb could sense his relief, he could sense the amusement hiding behind the scowl the kid was wearing.

"I'll go down and say hello before Dad comes up here." Caleb backed up towards the door as Sam took his place on the side of Dean's bed.

"Damien," Dean called.

Caleb stopped with the door half open. "What is it?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For getting everyone to safety."

Sam looked at his brother and then to Caleb and nodded. "What he said."

"No sweat, boys." Caleb winked and then turned and walked out the door, closing it behind him. He leant back for a moment and closed his eyes. He could still see the events of this latest hunt play in his minds eye.

Opening his eyes, Caleb took a big breath and shook his head, pushing the memories down and away. This time they had gotten a happy ending … mostly.

**The End.**

* * *

**A/N2:** So there you have it. I didn't have a solution, I didn't tell you what those little creatures are. I was going for a mysterious element … which probably just confused the hell out of you and ruined the story. I hope not, but I apologise if it did. I love this show, I love this verse and I love all of you for taking the time to read my work … or my attempts at writing anyway LOL

I wish you all the best for this new year. I hope 2011 rocks for us all.

**Tara x0x**


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